Broken Stone Castle
by spiritore
Summary: The Four have fallen and a world hangs in the balance. Once known as Nuriko in a past life, Rue must face his old companions and friends that were once his enemies.


Disclaimer: In my dreams is where they belong to me, but in reality it shall never be! I make no claim to owning anything or anyone from Fushigi Yugi. They are someone else's creations and I am only writing this for entertainment purposes. *nodditynod*

Rating: As of now . . . PG-13

Notes: I already have most of this fic planned out which, if anyone knows me, is an amazing thing. Most of it will be in Rue/Nuriko's POV . . . first person that is. I haven't written in first person for a very long time, so please accept my apologies if this first part seems extremely rough. And keep in mind that this is pretty much the introduction part so despite my best efforts it might be on the dull side for some people.

This is a reincarnation fic, but with what I hope is a slightly different twist. Yes, shounen ai does run rampant throughout (partially because I have a hard time believing that Nuriko would be straight as opposed to bi or gay), but I feel it a bit . . . I dunno, harsh to put it under the warning section. I make no promises on pairing anyone up with anyone else. This is more of an action/adventure fic than anything else.

And on a further note, the three line phrases are not to make too much sense, musically or literally. The title for the entire fic is subject to change. That's enough rambling from me, isn't it? ^^;;;

Dedication: to Sapphy (aka Luna Crescent) because she's been waiting for this for forever and because she did seem desperate for some sort of . . . uh, sane (using the word loosely of course) reading. ^^;;; Not that this is it. *pokes fic and watches it bite back* Yeah . . .

Broken Stone Castle

Part One - Junk Pile

by CaraMia

"Beneath the earth

In the water

That is where I will be."

The darkness held nothing for nothing belonged in it. Not life nor death. Not sound nor silence. It held nothing and the young man stood within its midst. His body a blur of white, muted by the darkness that tried to swallow him. Make him nothing. Amethyst strands of hair floating about, long one moment, short the next. Never the same length, but always refusing to become nothing. He knelt upon the blackness, blurred white hands covering his blurred white face that belonged to his bowed head.

"Through the air

At the fire

I shall never be seen."

He was the anything that wasn't nothing in this place. The only thing that did not belong to the darkness . . . except the sound. The music that drifted away and came back in a voice neither human nor male or female. The music that had no flow to it , but danced about erratically and without thought. A smattering of words with no rhythm. Unnatural, but it was something.

"Across the space

Through the time

I am never here."

The young man and the song. The two that did not belong in the darkness of nothing. And myself. I did not belong here, but I had not been here before this moment. I stepped forward. There was silence, except for the song. Another step towards the young man. I knew him. Somehow. I reached for him.

He was not alone in the darkness with me there.

And I was not alone.

"Seven are the stars

Four times wrought

I am no longer free."

The young man straightened and I knew it was because of me. His hands drew away from his face, yet his back still faced me. "You're finally here." His voice a mimicry of one I had heard before. "Are you ready?"

Another step. A hand almost touching his blurred white shoulder. "Ready for what?"

An echo of identical sound.

The strands of hair shifting from long to short, glanced about my hand, barely touching it at their longest length. So vibrant against the darkness. "To start at the end."

"North, East, South, West

All flicker with plague

No fate for I."

The music. The young man. Those that were something made no sense. The darkness of nothing swirled, the red ember of a dying fire shooting through its midst. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

The young man was smiling. I could not see it, but I knew he was smiling. A smile of never ending patience. "I talk of something that is everything, but that is nothing to you at this juncture. And I - I am the lost memory of you."

No sense. He made no sense. The red took away the darkness, brightened. Flickering, the red of fire.

"An ageless moment

A loss of hope

I await salvation."

The red of everything, except him and I. It burned. Slowly, then faster. The heat of it made it hard to breathe. It was trying to kill me. The red. The fire. It attacked my skin, then burrowed its way deeper into me. I could see it beneath my skin, veins of vibrant red winding about my hands and arms, streaked with the most wonderful of golds.

I was dying. It moved and built itself in the middle of my chest. A fiery spot of burning red and gold agony.

I couldn't breathe.

The red of fire whirled and there it was. In front of the boy and I. A bird of glorious fire. And from it came the unnatural song.

"Follow the mortal

Swallow the darkness

No more room for I."

It looked at me with an eye of burning ruby. The heat, the agony, the lack of oxygen lost their purpose for all that mattered to me was the bird of flame. A phoenix I would have called it, but somehow I knew this was no mere phoenix. This was something more . . . and I belonged to it.

It looked away, flapping its wings once, twice, before flying away, its tail a banner of fire. It took with it the red and the burning within my chest. Vanished without a trace. It left behind chilling white and its nonsensical song.

The young man had never moved.

"Broken stone castle

The shattered shadow

I am what never was."

"W-what's happening?" My voice, the cold air deadened it. The white and chill of death.

"The last chance." The young man stood, graceful and elegant. The blur of his body defining itself in sky blue and rose-pink cloth. "The ember has been planted. Will you remember?" The dark of brown took existence in front of him. A shape. It was becoming something. "Will you remember that last moment of life? Will you remember this moment?"

The dark shape formed fully. All fur and molted brown. A hideous dog with fangs of poison. The young man never seemed to notice. His voice echoed in the whiteness, "The Four have fallen. Even if you remember will you find the others? Will you save the Four?"

I was frozen. The white of death had done it to me. I could not warn the young man as the dog lunged. My voice would not emerge. The dog with burning amber eyes. I heard its voice within my head, mocking me. "You are helpless against my power. As he is helpless against his fate! YOUR FATE!"

The dog struck the young man.

The young man fell onto the white of death.

"A step of fate

Last call of hope

I am stuck between."

There was red now, but it was no longer the red of fire. It was the red of blood upon the white of death. I was no longer frozen to silence nor motion.

The dog of molted brown was gone. The young man lay upon the ground. I rushed to him. He was covered in the red of blood. I looked to his face, stained with ruby red and my heart stilled.

He smiled at me gently through pain as if it did not exist, his rose-brown eyes twinkling like he had played the greatest trick on me. "Surprised?" A hand streaked with blood, chilling with death touched my face. He had the fingers of a ghost. "Will you chose as I would have? Will you remember . . . me? . . . you?"

I clutched his hand to my face desperately, feeling the faint flutter of his pulse against my fingertips. His smiled widened slightly, his eyes growing vague. "I think . . . so . . ." He drew his hand away, softly placing his fingertips against my lips, then in the softest whisper, a secret between ourselves, he spoke to me once more for the last time.

"Our name is Nuriko."

His face was my face.

His hand fell away. His eyes shut. His heart stopped. He died.

I died. Alone in the white.

"Choice of one

Red, White, Blue, Green

Shall I live again?"

*****

It was a desperate loud sound, reaching high into the air, completely lost that woke me up. A scream so sad and lost that there was no way I could ignore it. I sat up immediately, eyes blearily staring at the purple-splashed wall in front of me.

That was before I realized that the scream was coming from me. The sound tearing its way into the air, leaving my lungs aching for oxygen and my throat feeling like someone had taken sandpaper to it.

I shut my mouth, the scream ended. Good. Now why had I been screaming?

"RUE! Are you all right?" My sister slammed the door open, nearly throwing herself to the ground with the force of her movement. Her free hand grasped the edge of the door sill, saving herself from a plunge to the floor. Her light chestnut hair tumbled over her slender face as her rose-brown eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of danger. In one hand, fingers clutched so tight the knuckles were white, she held a black spatula. I doubt that her appearance would have sent any intruders running for fear of their lives . . . Idiots.

I brought a trembling hand to my forehead, feeling the sweat there cooling swiftly. "I'm . . . fine, Cor."

brown mass rushing . . . the mocking, dry voice . . . 

"It was just a nightmare . . ." 

the beast with fangs stained red . . . 

so cold . . . so white . . . 

"about . . . a dog and snow . . . I think." 

There was something else too. Something more to the nightmare. But I couldn't remember it, like it had fallen into a bottomless pit.

My sister straightened. The wild, overly-concerned look etched on her face switching to one of amusement and irritation within seconds. "That's it?" I nodded at her, a lie taking life in that simple motion of my head. 

She snorted, "Figures. Dogs. It's always dogs with you. They're all out to get you." That spatula was waved in my direction, emphasizing her teasing tones. Her nose crinkled, "Methinks you need help."

"I don't need help and not all dogs are out to get me." Just most of them. Stupid drooling beasts. "You're the one that needs help. Probably sleep with that spatula."

"Can I help it if my kitchenware loves me?"

"What? It follows you to bed every night?" Ugh, the adrenaline rush from the nightmare was wearing off quickly. My shakes had nearly shaken themselves out. The comfort of falling asleep was sanding more tempting by the moment now that the nightmare had been lost to the abyss where forgotten things fell. Nice warm covers. Soft, downy pillows.

"Only if I forget to lock it in the drawer . . . Don't you even think about nodding off, Rue!" When had she become a mind reader? Her only response was to raise an eyebrow, a dare to go against her words.

I kept my mouth shut, but raised my eyebrows questionably right back at her.

Coral waved the black spatula at me again. Her and her cooking utensils. "You promised to work at Aunt Tabitha's shop while she's away, 'member? And you have to open in an hour or so." She chuckled, "I was going to wake you up in a couple of moments, but you did it yourself. Now you have to stay awake!"

Great. I had forgotten about my promise to Aunt Tabby. "Okay, I'm up. I'm up." Throw off the blankets. Move legs over side of bed. Make them remember how to work them. I really hated mornings. Sleep sounded sooooo good.

"Really? Because if you are I can go make breakfast now."

"Yes, really!" I glared at her . . . which slowly became a blank stare as her clothing registered in my mind. She was still in her pajamas. The bright pink ones with cats all over them; fat cats, cats with hats, dancing cats, and cats wearing suits . . . all the while holding that black spatula looking ready to fight an army of monsters and win. "You're cooking in your pajamas?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" Her arms crossed over her chest--black spatula clutched defensively--while her brow crinkled up in offense..

Little sisters could be so cute!

"Not at all!"

Looking like she was still expecting some sharp remark from me, Coral slowly started to back out of my room. "Fine, but you had better be out to eat breakfast in fifteen minutes or you'll be sorry, purple-people-eater!"

I winced, "Are you still sore about that, Cor? It's been a week."

Yup, a week and a long week it had been. Due to the unexpected urge that I followed through with my sister had been far from happy with me, my parents were less than pleased as well of course, but with Coral it was more like a grudge out of betrayal. I couldn't exactly blame her. For years we had been nearly identical in appearance and there had been few instances where we hadn't consulted each other on drastic decisions . . . like the one I had made such a short time ago. One moment of insanity and my hair was a foot shorter and dyed a vibrant purple.

I knew it wasn't the drastic change that had Coral in a tiff, even if it had ruined our identical scheme that we had running since we were burn. It was the thought that I had gone and done such a thing without confiding in her.

Not that I had planned on doing it until that split second in the mall.

My sister gave me an unsettling grin; one that gave me shivers down my spine. "Give me this morning." She winked at me, bright eyes gleaming. "There will not be a word from me about your hair when you get back from the shop. I can guarantee that!" Coral was gone then, skipping down the hall, her last words echoing back to my room.

She was up to something.

It worried me.

*****

Tappity tip tip.

Tippity tap tap.

Tap. Tip. Tappity tip tap.

I let go of the pen watching it slowly roll over the countertop edge and fall to the ground, its oblong black shape spinning for a split second in thin air before making contact with the scruffy brown carpet.. So bored. I was so bored. There was only so much a person can do in a shop like Aunt Tabby's before ending up with time on their hands.

For several days of working here it had been possible to lose track of time while examining the miscellaneous items that make up her merchandise. Gag gifts, glass figurines, books on history, and relics from all over were only a selection of what she kept stocked on the shelves.. The store was aptly named The Junk Pile.

It is slow at the shop for the most part, except for those odd rushes that came at least once a day, leaving one ready to find something entertaining to preoccupy time. At one point, when I had just started helping out Aunt Tabby, I had wondered how she made any money with it and manage to keep it running. I no longer wondered. Aunt Tabby didn't make her money from those few that wandered in and bought little novelty items, but from several private customers in the market for historic artifacts, cherished treasures of long ago that were worth thousands upon thousands.

She traveled all over the world to find such artifacts. Sometimes she searched for them because of a request, other times she searched for them just for herself. She kept all of her findings at the shop, locked away behind a fire-red door. I'm still surprised that she's never had any break ins. I know Aunt Tabby doesn't even have an alarm system, only locks upon the doors and blinds that fall down over the two front windows to hide behind when the closed sign has been hung.

The shop is odd. The merchandise is odd. But Aunt Tabby is odd, too, so it all works out in a strange way.

Aunt Tabby was off on another of her adventures, leaving me (and my sister when she was feeling generous) to run the shop for a nine days. I was on my fourth day of watching the Junk Pile and was on the verge of doing a strip dance on top of the counter for my own entertainment. Maybe it would attract some customers.

Customers would be a welcomed relief. The first three days I had crept about the shop, dusting those crowded shelves that had been neglected for months, so long that the objects upon them had looked like they had been caught within a land of dismal gray. I had also wandered about the shop aimlessly, glancing at the new oddities that Aunt Tabby had put out, but my attention had been caught by the display case in the back.

Through the arched glass doors framed in by delicately carved oak wood, Aunt Tabby's "treasures of the moment" could be seen, proudly exhibited upon the wooden shelves. The "treasures" often came from the special storage room, usually based upon a time period or culture, they were changed from month to month.

This month it displayed ancient Chinese relics from a forgotten era, so Aunt Tabby said. She had placed them there only a few days before she had left for her trip. Coral and I had helped, carefully opening the boxes and removing the paper wrapped objects from the darkness of safety. It was a privilege to handle Aunt Tabby's "treasures", but even as I had unwrapped them and arranged them upon the shelves the thought had crossed my mind that they looked too new, not quite right. But if Aunt Tabby said they were authentic, they were.

It was in that box that I had found the small circular package, tucked away in the bottom where I had nearly missed it.

//I pulled the object up, feeling the brown paper crinkle beneath my fingers, vaguely wondering what it was. Slowly and carefully I pulled the edges apart, the giggling of my sister fading into the background as my hands began to tremble. There was something about it. Warm and familiar. Strong.

What was i-

Well-worn and brown, Aunt Tabby's hands plucked the still wrapped object from my hands. "I was wondering where this had gone to!" She held it right in front of her nose, smoky-brown eyes nearly invisible from squinting, chuckling to herself. With swift fingers, she plucked the packing paper covering it away, revealing . . .

. . . two bracelets, white as snow and adorned with jewels as red as fire . . .

. . . or blood.

My breath caught in my throat. I could feel my eyes widen. They were . . .

"OH! They're beautiful, Aunt Tabby!" Coral hovered next to them, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"Yes, they are." Aunt Tabby's wise and playful eyes looked to me from a face that was young and old at the same instant. "You're brother is entranced by them as well." A smile that was not a smile crossed her face. "Do you want them, Rue?"

Did I want them?

They called to me. Beautiful.

Fire and . . .

Strength.

I knew them.

My mouth opened and the word fell from my lips.

"Yes."

That strange smile grew and her eyes brightened, shimmering in the florescent almost as if they were filled with tears. She was swift, pulling both my hands to her, in seconds slipping a bracelet over them and adorning each wrist with a bracelet. They burned, only for a brief part of a second. The heat was gone so swiftly, I placed it was a figment of my imagination.

"Then they're yours." She still held my hands, the tanned wrinkled skin of her hands contrasting sharply with my own pale flesh. The gray streaking through her dark brown hair gleamed an unnatural blue as she pulled away--a reflection from one of the crystal ornaments giving it that color--turning to Coral, who looked ready to protest at my sudden gift. "And I can't leave out my wonderful niece, now can I?"

A silver necklace was pulled out of her pocket, a pendent of a bird with wings outstretched carved into deep red stone, silver glimmering as its eyes. Aunt Tabby placed it in Coral's hands, gently kissing her cheek with painted red lips. "So this is for you. A gift to protect you as is Rue's gift is to protect."

Coral leaped up, wrapping her slender arms around our aunt's delicate neck. "It's absolutely beautiful!"

Beautiful . . . and something much more.//

It took a moment for the soft chime of the bell above the door to register in my mind. The small metallic device had announced someone arriving in the store.

A customer which meant entertainment and salvation from death of boredom.

Maybe Fate was being kind.

I raised my eyes to see whoever had wandered through the door, prepared to greet them . . . and no words came out of my mouth.

Fate was being very, very kind.

My customer was a looker without the slightest doubt. Dark brown slacks nicely encasing long legs. Dark red dress shirt covering a well-built torso. Approximately my age. Hair the color of rich chocolate longer than mine had once been. Strong firm features. Beautiful golden eyes . . .

. . . that were staring right at me, the eyebrows over them raised in what had to be amusement.

Okay, must not drool despite tightness in chest and catch in breath. I straightened, managing to find the voice that I had thought lost within my throat. "Hello! Can I help you with anything?"

Absolutely gorgeous.

And he had caught me staring at him.

Him? Definitely him. Let it be known that my tastes run to both sides of the field.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to find anything wrong with my staring.

"No . . . I'm just looking around." He nodded to himself, a slight smile quirking his lips as he ran a hand through his dark strands of hair. He definitely knew how good he looked.

It would be hard for him not to. It was hard for me to not notice.

Okay. Bad Rue. Must keep hormones under control . . . right.

I vaguely wondered if he was available. Probably not. Gay or bi? A possibility considering my admiring gaze hadn't driven him off.

Lost in my thoughts, he had wandered from my peripheral vision. I scanned the room and found him next to the "treasures" case, face blank and fingers lightly grazing the barely visible barrier that kept them from the objects behind it. The case never failed to attract people to it.

I leaned forward on the counter, elbows resting against the hard surface, cupping my chin in my hands. "Interesting, aren't they?"

The man pulled back away, looking slightly flustered. "Ah, yes. It's funny, I feel like I've seen them before . . ." His gaze was pulled back to the case, where the only sword within the case hung, unsheathed, its silver shine falsely leading one to believe that it was newly forged. None of the items within the case looked half as old as they should have.

I scratched the back of my head, laughing slightly. "Do you? Maybe you've seen replicas . . ." I had been given the impression from Aunt Tabby that it was extremely hard (as in pretty much impossible) to find "treasures" such as those in the case. She never lied, nor tried to mislead people.

He shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe." Long brown strands flowed through the air as he shook his head abruptly. "I'm too easily distracted. Do you know the time, Miss? I left . . ."

Whatever else he said never reached my hearing. All it took was one word to completely throw me off.

Miss?

He thought I was a girl! Oh why, oh why, oh why?! It was nearly enough to make me throw a fit. Drop-dead gorgeous man walks through the door and he thinks I'm a GIRL! No fair!

Why does everyone think I'm a girl? I have no chest. Zip. Zero. Nada. Very flat. It has to be the pretty face . . . and the voice . . . and body structure . . . all right that doesn't help much, but still I have NO CHEST!

I have nothing against being mistaken for a woman, but I can only take being approached for some "girl-talk" so many times and turn down so many guys. Try telling a straight male that you're a man after they've hit on you. It can be entertaining and dangerous depending on the person.

Stifling a groan, I glanced at the neon green numbers on the cash register's display. "It's ten to three." Why bother correcting him? There was a chance in a million that he would met me again after he left the store and even if he did why would he have cause to remember me?

"Ah, I'm running late." He crinkled his brow and gently took a red crystal figurine of a long-tailed bird off one of the shelves near him, his long, elegant fingers cradling it gently. "Here, I'll buy this." He placed it upon the countertop.

A sympathy buy. It wasn't uncommon for a browser to buy some fifty cent trinket before leaving out of a strange sort of guilt, but the crystal bird was quite expensive. "Are you sur-"

"Positive." The young man slid the money forward, the exact amount and not a penny more. 

Wow. My fingers fumbled for the cash button, slowly stuffing the money where it belonged after the drawer came out. "Do you want me to wrap that for you?"

His eyes twinkled, "No, because it's not going anywhere. It's for you, one who knows true beauty when they see it."

Was he talking about himself? Yes, he was.

How vain was he? Very, but he was also extremely generous and nice. A nice, generous, vain man.

Rich, too, if he could just spend money like that. Money had to be spilling out of his pockets.

But no matter how nice or kind he was . . . "I can-"

"Yes, you can." He just had to keep interrupting me. "No refusing." His hand grasped one of my own, his grip warm and . . .

//he could never love me . . .

. . . can i love him?

he's so beautiful

perfect and powerful

there's nothing wrong with loving him

he's so alone

his beautiful golden eyes are lonely

for him . . .

. . . my love is impossible

he's so courageous

he should love no one else

SHE holds his heart

he loves her

. . . hotohori . . .

i love you . . .

before love i must protect . . .

. . . for suzaku

sorry . . .

. . . you don't love me anyways . . .//

"Do I know you?" My voice did not win the fight against the jingling of the bell as the strange young man walked out the door. So swiftly he was leaving, his elegant body a dark blur being consumed by afternoon light.

Gone in the sun's burning light. It was warm outside, yet I was so cold. For that brief moment our hands had met there had been the greatest warmth. A small part that I had never known lost, returned.

For that moment. I looked down, my hand gently cupped over the crystal bird, its red color shifting shades in an ever-changing dance, like a fire. A red bird . . . a phoenix . . . Suzaku.

//"Are you ready?"//

The golden beads of the figurine's eyes shimmered, light trapped within a ball.

A bird of flame. 

He had known.

Somehow.

*****

It was dead silent when I opened the door to my house. The parents weren't home, yet, I knew that. They were both at work, but Coral was home and she always had something on to make noise, be it the television or the radio. She hated silence. I was on the alert as soon as I had realized what was missing.

"Coral?"

No answer. Maybe she had gone out? Then she would have left a note on the table in the entrance hall. She always left a note.

I checked the table. No note.

Bitter fear rose in my throat. She had to be around here somewhere.

"Coral?"

All I had wanted was to come home, beg Coral to make dinner, collapse on the couch, and forget about the strange occurrence at the store. It was to much to ask for a moment where I could be allowed to relax and not think, it seemed.

Now I was fighting panic.

"Coral!"

Nothing. Then the soft padding of feet coming down stairs even as I drew in another breath to call for her.

"Rue, that you?"

I moved in the direction of the stairs, my anger dissipating to annoyance. "Yes. Didn't you hear me?"

"I was a bit distracted." Her voice was filled with laughter. "Sorry 'bout that." Her footsteps were light, but I heard the distinct noise of her jumping the last several steps of the stairs, landing abruptly in front of my position suddenly. She practically beamed up at me as locks of long violet hair settled about her shoulders. "So what do you think?"

I stared. Violet. There was little wonder now about what she had been up to. On what she had been planning. I struggled for a moment on what to do.

I was far from angry with her. Somehow a small voice in the back of my head knew that this had been coming. It always happened. One of us would do something unusual and the other would follow shortly behind. One prime example being the time Coral had fallen after trying to balance on a tree branch and broken her arm. Less than a week later a cast had adorned my arm as well, the same stunt at fault.

Pulling a lock of her hair forward, I frowned at it. She had only had it trimmed. It would have been a waste if she had cut her hair like I had and she knew it. "I think that the dye you used was a shade lighter than mine . . ." I caught her eyes with my gaze, allowing my grin to appear, "and that our parents will either kill you or both of us."

She clasped her hands behind her head, "Guess that means I should break out my trusty spatula, huh?"

"Make that a frying pan."

"Duly noted." Her finger playfully tapped her lip and she grasped my hand, cheerfully starting to chatter about dinner.

I smiled, letting everything slide away like water running down glass. I was home and home was safe. Coral was happy, I was content and that was all I would ever need. That nice, vain young man had nothing to do with me. It had been a random meeting that my imagination had elaborated upon out of boredom. That was it.

It was nothing more than that.

A heavy feeling centered itself in my chest, even as I followed my bouncing sister into the kitchen.

It was nothing . . . right?

*****

Any questions? C&C welcome. Flames shall be displayed with pride and afterwards used to fuel my woodstove.

It's cold outside. ^^


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